


Wizard

by irishlullaby13



Series: Wizard Crane Trilogy [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: I needed prompts to get my brain going, Sing asked for "Ichabod Crane, warlock"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/gifts).



Ichabod Crane. The very near was capable of making the inhabitants of Sleepy Hollow shudder and cross themselves if one so much as uttered his name. After all, the devil appeared wherever his name was uttered. And the last person anyone wanted to appear was Ichabod Crane.

He was not only cantankerous and bordering politely rude but he was known to be a powerful wizard. A powerful wizard that reclused himself in his home just outside of town and the God-fearing citizens of Sleepy Hollow preferred if he stay there. 

It was said Satan himself feared Ichabod Crane. Old Man Hawley had once been a roguish man not too long ago. Word on the streets was, he had dared to let his eye wander to a young maiden that held the attention of the wizard, and zapped away his youth--claiming it for himself.

This rumour had also led to said maiden being consistently single. Oh she had admirers. But as soon as the gentleman in question discovered she was _the_ Abigail Mills they would suddenly feign recalling they left the gas on at home and make an escape.

After one too many instances Abigail of being left in the cold, so to speak, it so happened Ichabod Crane made his way into town for supplies. As he always did, he stopped first at the Mabie's Tavern where the fair maiden Abigail and her sister worked. Also, as he always did, he found the darkest corner away from everyone that had fallen quiet at his entry.

In no time at all, a cautious muttering filled the tavern again, as the citizens realized he wasn't out to curse anyone… _yet_. Then suddenly, the doors to the kitchen exploded open and a tall figure lumbered toward the dark corner. 

“You have a fat lot of nerve showing up here after what you did to Hawley!”

Ichabod Crane was renowned for his biting temper. No one ever dared to confront him on the uses of his magic or to get in his face as Jennifer Mills was currently doing. Then again, one could suppose that was one of the advantages of being Fair Abigail's sister.

The man in question, simply folded his hands on his knee and tilted his head as he eyed Jennifer curiously. “And what, pray tell, did _I_ do to Mister Hawley? I will gladly undo it if he is undeserving of the punishment I have supposedly unjustly foisted upon him.”

“You turned him into an old man!” Jennifer barked.

Ichabod Crane peered at Jennifer. “You are aware he is a knave? Are you certain he didn't rebuke the gaze of a witch or--perhaps angered a witch with his wandering hands that so oft offend the ladies of the town--and they are the one to curse him?”

Jennifer sucked in a breath, brandishing her finger like a sword or wand at the ready. The tavern had fallen into complete silence again, wondering how much of Jennifer's sharp tongue Ichabod would allow. However it was not Ichabod Crane that silenced the woman. It was a gentle, but assertive, “ _Jenny_ ” spoken by the smaller but eldest Mills sister.

Immediately, Jennifer deflated and turned toward her sister. 

“I got this,” Abigail said, giving Jennifer a pointed glare. She gestured for the younger sister to be gone. Jennifer merely frowned and stomped back to the kitchen. She gave the wizard a kind smile as his eyes flickered between her eyes and the St Michael charm hanging around her neck. “Would you like your regular order?”

Everyone stared in wonder as Ichabod’s normal scowling face turned serene. They wondered if, perhaps, Abigail herself was some kind of witch that specialized in making rude and grumpy wizards seem deceptively approachable. His face flushed and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he dropped his gaze away from hers. “Yes, please, madam.” He glanced up at her and awkwardly blurted, “That is a lovely talisman.”

Abigail smiled and touched the charm. “Thanks. Can't be too careful with all these witches and wizards running around,” she teased. “Gotta have something for protection.”

He could also sense ancient magic attached to the protection charm. “Very wise indeed, Miss Mills.”

She leaned close enough for only him to hear. “And I think Hawley learned his lesson about grabbing things he shouldn't, you can take the curse off.”

Ichabod closed his eyes and drank in the sweet, intoxicating smell of Abigail. “Consider it done,” he murmured when she pulled away.

“I'll have your meal out shortly,” Abigail said with a smile. He watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen.

Silence continued as everyone stared at the grumpy wizard. Ichabod reached into his pocket and retrieved a black silk pouch. He untied it and poured out the contents upon the table--a few seemingly random stones, flora, and fine powders. He plucked a lock of hair from the assortment, tied with a bit of twine.

Everyone watched as the lock of hair ignited then fizzled into nothing. They jumped when Ichabod’s scowl returned. “What are you all looking at?” he growled.

They immediately returned to doing whatever it was they had been doing, so as not to anger the wizard. He settled back into his dark corner, brooding in his loneliness as he waited for his meal.


	2. The Tavern

Abbie delicately rubbed behind the ears of the blond rabbit sitting upon the table. The creature chewed quietly upon some greenery that had been supplied by Jenny. Abbie herself had her chin resting upon her palm as her elbow rested on the table and she listened to the wizard as he spoke.

Not even half an hour past the tavern had been full of lively patrons. However now it was merely the wizard and the rabbit were the only customers, in addition to the Mills sisters and the cook. Abbie was enjoying herself, hearing what the wizard had to say. Jenny however was scowling at the singed marks upon the walls and the fact that the tavern was now missing its entry door.

Jenny scowl as she heard her sisters melodic laugh ring through the quiet tavern. This was beginning to be somewhat of a problem. She knew in her heart she needed to ban the wizard from the tavern, however Mabie herself seemed to like the fact the wizard attracted attention to her little place.

Even if he often did leave a wake of destruction.

However, tonight's destruction probably could have been prevented if Nick Hawley had not made a grab upon Abbie's person, while sitting at the wizard’s table. Although Abbie's hand had connected with Nick's cheek a lot faster than the fireballs that had been cast in his direction by the furious wizard.

Shortly thereafter pandemonium had broke out causing all the patrons to flee, fearing for their lives.

Jenny sighed heavily and made her way toward the table near the back corner of the tavern. She pause briefly to take in her sister’s smiling face as she swirled a curl around her small finger. It has been a while since she had seen Abbie so freely enjoy herself, much less laugh as freely she currently was.

“This damage is going to be expensive to fix, you know,” Jenny groused turning a chair upright only for it to fall over as one of the legs had been burned clear off.

This broke whatever enchantment was currently taking place in the dark corner of the tavern. That was the only thing Jenny could think of to describe it. An enchantment. What else could explain the way those two seem to be oblivious to the world around them being literally in embers.

The wizard straightened in his seat. With a gentle nod he waved his hand then clicked his fingers. And just like that, all the damage repaired itself. Even the door hoisted itself back into its hinges and the stench of burning wood had vacated the building. 

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “There’s still the loss of income from you chasing everybody out,” she said flatly. “Some of those people had tabs running and I know they won't pay it. They'll claim they shouldn't have to pay because they had to run for their lives.”

The wizard hummed indifferently and shrugged his shoulders. He patted his pockets and then pulled out a small velvet purse. He opened the strings and removed four gold pieces and set them upon the table. “Will this prove sufficient to cover lost wages and income for the evening?” When Jenny continued to simply glare at him he set another two coins down and slid them toward her.

Jenny stomped over to the table and picked up the four coins. “It's a start,” she grumbled. “And turn Hawley back into a person.”

“Aww, come on Jenny,” Abbie said with glee. She picked up the rabbit by his middle and bounced him happily. “You can't say Nick isn't adorable in this form.”

“I think it would benefit him to stay this way for a few days,” the wizard huffed. “Perhaps it will finally sink in that he should not just be groping women as he pleases.”

Abbie laughed as she hugged the rabbit to her chest before setting it back upon the table. “Why do you even let this guy come around you if you know he's just going to make you mad,” she asked curiously.

At this the wizard scowled slightly. “He is one of the few people in the town that will willingly be found in my company,” the wizard said quietly. “Although, yes, it's generally because he knows he can make a fair amount of coin by tending to business for me… sometimes it is the only human contact I have for weeks at a time.”

Even Jenny was suddenly able to have sympathy for the much feared wizard. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment and then sucked in a breath. “May I be so bold as to request a closer look at your talisman,” he asked Abbie as she began to idly toy with it.

“Oh! Yeah, sure, have at it,” Abbie beamed, reaching behind her neck to untie the ribbon.

“No, no, no… don't…” he said quickly but she was already settling it into his hand. 

Jenny felt a chill course up her spine. There wasn't a magically inclined individual in the whole of Sleepy Hollow that was not interested in Abbie's necklace. It was a protection charm, that much Jenny knew.

And Abbie had just set it into the hands of the most feared and powerful wizards in the region.

“What?” Abbie asked.

“I did not want anyone to think I would put you under some kind of enchantment,” the wizard said softly. 

“It’s only us,” Abbie said softly, tilting her head as she smiled. She reached out and patted the hand he still had lying upon the table. “I trust you. Besides I've always been curious about this necklace myself. And who better to tell me more about it than one of the most powerful wizards in the area?”

Even in the dim lighting of the tavern Jenny could see his cheeks take on a rosy hue. She also noted that Abbie had not taken her hand from his just yet. In fact Abbie's thumb was idly stroking the back of his knuckles. Good Lord was Abbie _flirting_ with him?

If she was he didn't seem to notice as he turned the charm over in his fingers, observing it curiously. “I have never seen anything like this,” he murmured. “The image itself seems to be cast in silver, which makes sense considering it's a protection charm. But this outer edge is quite curious indeed.”

“Oh?” Abbie asked, leaning closer to him. “What about it?”

“If I am not mistaken, it is Damascus steel,” he said. “It would take great patience and dedication to forge such a delicate piece. I would warrant this has not always been the image of St Michael. There is _old, old_ magic forged into all of it.”

The wizard turned his hand over and gently grasped Abbie's fingers. “Someone wanted to make certain whomever wore this charm was protected.”

Oh God. Abbie _was_ flirting with him! Jenny felt a panic in the pit of her belly. Didn't Abbie realize that she was literally flirting with disaster? Only bad things could happen if she got involved with the wizard. Couldn't she, for once, think about her reputation?

Abbie was already getting whispers about her because it was obvious the wizard fancied her. After all, a guy didn't just hurl fireballs at the town player for grabbing a woman. Although, Jenny wished that was the case. Menfolk might actually learn how to treat ladies of all classes if it was.

She watched as the wizard made to pass the charm back to her sister. However Abbie turned and pulled her hair away from the back of her neck in invitation for him to put it around her himself. The wizard drew in a ragged breath then delicately draped the charm back around Abbie's neck then tied it back into place.

He swallowed hard and gently brushed backs of his fingers along her spine. When he softly muttered “beautiful” Jenny had a feeling he was not referring to the charm.

“So, how exactly do protection charms work?” Abbie asked, turning back toward the wizard.

“The magic calls out to those around who can help,” the wizard explained. “For those who received the message it comes as an impulse to explore the vicinity until they happen upon the danger. Or in some cases the person who receives the message feels as though something is afoot and goes to see what the problem is. Therefore providing the wearer of such charm the protection they need.”

His eyes fell to the charm as Abbie straightened it upon her chest. Jenny felt trepidation as she realized perhaps she should tell her boyfriend that she could not stay at his residence tonight after all. “Hey Abbie, can I speak to you for a second?”

“I suppose I must make my leave,” the wizard said. He wrangled the rabbit into his arms. “I have a pen at home that I can put this miscreant in until he learns his lesson.”

Abbie laughed. “Maybe the lesson will stick this time.”

With adoring eyes, Abbie watched as the wizard stood and made his way out of the door. Jenny walked over to her sister and took a seat in the chair he had vacated. “Are you going to be okay making your way home alone tonight?”

“I'll be fine, I've told you at least six times, there's nothing to worry about Jenny,” Abbie insisted. “Go and enjoy your evening with your fiance.”

“But… the wizard…”

“Ichabod would never hurt me,” Abbie said. 

“Don't say his name so casually, Abbie!” Jenny hissed. “You know he's bad news. Look at what he did to the tavern tonight. Look at what he did to Hawley!”

Abbie covered her lips to disguise a soft laugh. “Come on Jenny. He does something like that the Hawley every couple of weeks you know that. Don't act like it's a surprise that Hawley does something rude and Ichabod punishes him for it. Besides you know he'll turning back to normal soon. Not to mention he fixed the damage and he paid for the trouble.”

“Quit using his name!” Jenny yelped.

“Why?” Abbie asked, tilting her head. 

In truth, Jenny didn't know why. She just knew the superstitious folk of Sleepy Hollow referred to the man as “the wizard” so as not to speak his name because they didn't want to attract his attention. There were many magickal folk in the area, but only he was referred to as the wizard. 

He was that much bad news. And here her older sister was flirting with him and acting as though he was as adorably harmless as the bunny he had turned Hawley into. 

“You know what fine,” Jenny snapped. “Since you obviously don't care that you're literally flirting with disaster, I'm just going to let it be. But I'm warning you Abbie, you need to stop this before it gets dangerous.”

“I'm a big girl Jenny I can take care of myself,” Abbie said flatly. “You and Joe have a good night I'm going home.”

Jenny felt like kicking herself as Abbie stood, removed her apron, and then made her way to the exit.


	3. The Maiden

Abbie took a deep breath as she stepped outside. All too late she realized she had left her coat in the cloakroom. She shivered as an early autumn chill whipped through. Pride alone kept her from turning to go back and fetch it.

Besides, home wasn't too terribly far away. She could make it by rubbing her arms along the way. If she walked fast enough, that would keep her warm.

She turned in the direction that would lead her home then paused as she realized what was before her. A smile tugged at her lips as she observed Ichabod staring transfixed at one of the gas lanterns that dotted the streets.

“What are you doing,” she asked curiously.

He's slowly lifted his hand and pointed to a bright green and pink coloured moth resting upon the pole. “A female luna moth,” he replied quietly. “A sighting of this beautiful creature is so rare that I couldn't help but take a moment to admire her.”

Abbie stepped up next to him to observe the creature as it delicately fluttered its wings against the evening breeze. She wondered if it had any sort of magical qualities he would find useful. Was he debating collecting it or just wanting to appreciate the simple beauty of the creature?

Another small gust puffed through, upsetting the moth and it flew away, floating on the wind. Ichabod chuckled gently. “Such fleeting moments...” he murmured, looking down when Abbie rubbed her arms. “Oh Heavens… I apologize. How rude of me.”

Abbie hadn't a moment to wonder what he was apologizing for before he was shoving the rabbit into her arms and removing his coat. He draped the coat over her shoulders, tucking it closed to keep her warm. 

“It's okay I was on my way home, it's not too far from here,” Abbie said.

Ichabod glanced about then frowned. “You are walking home alone?”

Abbie nodded, “Yeah. Jenny is going to be accompanying her fiance home.”

“It's dangerous for a lady such as yourself to walk alone this late,” Ichabod commented. “Nicholas was saying almost every night someone gets robbed in this area.”

Glancing around dramatically, Abbie laughed, “ A lady? Where?” She shook her head. “Not many people would count me amongst the ladies.” She rubbed her nose against the scratchy wool of his coat and breathed in the pleasant woodsy musk that lingered upon the fabric. “If you would like, you could walk me home.”

Ichabod bowed deeply before her. “It would be an honor to do so my lady,” he replied.

Abbie shivered again but this time it was not from the wind. Instead it was from letting herself get lost and the gentle rumble of his beautiful voice. She could easily get lost in it, listen to it for hours. Not to mention he was incredibly intelligent, which was one of those things Abbie found highly attractive in a partner.

“Lead the way madam,” Ichabod said, sweeping his hand in the direction she had been aiming toward.

Abbie laughed and gave him a small curtsey before walking forward. Within seconds he was walking at her side, his hands clasped behind his back. Good God, how come she had never noticed how tall he was? _Because he’s usually sitting down_ , she reminded herself. He seemed much skinnier out of his coat, too. Like too strong of a wind would knock him over.

She glanced down as Nick wriggled in her arms. Abbie cradled the rabbit against her bosom and he settled down. “Don't get too keen, Nick,” she chuckled. “This is the _only_ way you're getting this intimate with me.” She looked up at Ichabod, a gentle smile was on his lips as he gazed down at her. “Will he remember being a rabbit? Or, is he aware that he's a human being trapped in a rabbit’s body?”

“Oh he is very aware,” Ichabod commented. “The first time I ever transfigured him into a different creature, it was a mouse. He recalled every panicked moment of trying to outrun my cat. Even now he flinches when Selene rubs against his leg.”

Abbie laughed. He had a cat. He had never mentioned it before. Then again, she hadn't asked if he had pets. And apparently he turned Hawley into animals more frequently than everyone thought. “Why'd you turn him into a mouse?”

“He thought he was being clever and tried to renegotiate the fee for his services after he discovered the value of the item in question,” Ichabod replied. He sighed gently. “I admit it was probably an overreaction. But we had reached a deal and I expected him to keep his word.”

“As he should have,” Abbie said. “You know, you--Ah! Ichabod!”

Abbie gasped in shock as a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind. “Money and jewelry,” a rough voice demanded and Abbie saw the gleam of a knife in her peripheral. “All your money and jewelry or the lady… oh _shit_.”

The robber's voice dropped as Ichabod turned. Abbie was immediately released and she heard the sound of retreating footsteps. 

“Oh no you don't,” Ichabod growled. He reached out of hand and clenched his fist, the treating figure fell face-first onto the ground. The assailant grasped uselessly at the cobblestone as Ichabod pulled his fist closer to his chest. The robber slid across the ground coming back toward them, crying out for mercy.

With wide eyes Abbie watched as Ichabod made gestures with his hand, his eyes focused upon the person that he had ensnared. In turn the would-be robber lifted from the ground and world around face them floating upon the air as though he were weightless. For the first time Abbie noticed Ichabod's eyes were glowing a bright orange. 

“Please don't hurt me, please,” the assailant pleaded. “I'm just trying to get money so I can buy my sister's medicine.”

Abbie stepped forward and pulled back the scarf concealing the robber’s face. “He's just a child,” she said. “Ichabod… don't…”

The wizard sucked in a deep breath and then gently lowered his hand until the boy's feet were on the ground once again. Ichabod’s eyes returned to their natural blue shade but he kept a hand at the ready in case the child decided to make a run again. “Medicine, you say? What ails her?”

The boy look nervously between Abbie and Ichabod before quietly responding, “Consumption sir.”

Abbie felt her heart ache. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. While the incurable disease was considered a fashionable way to die amongst the wealthy, for those who were struggling, it was a harsh way to go.

“We've been trying to keep her comfortable until…” the boy's eyes looked off into the distance. “She's been in a lot of pain and the doctor has been making her medicine more and more expensive.”

There was a space of silence that Abbie watched a play of emotions cross Ichabod's face. “If it is _her_ wish to meet a quick end… Near Lover's Point, by the river, there is a small cluster of nightshade growing. Make certain you are wearing gloves and dig it up by the roots. Brew the roots and the berries with some water. The berries are a good source of poison but what you really want is the roots but I do not think there will be enough to fell a human being without their first descending to madness.

“About an hour after drinking, she should slip into a state of paralysis and then succumb to the poison soon after. It's the best offering I have. If questions arise, tell them your desperation bid you to seek me out and that you gave her the potion I provided.”

The boy's face scrunched as if to fight back tears but he nodded. “Thank you kind wizard,” he said, his voice cracking. “Is there no other magic which could spare her?”

Ichabod shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is not.”

The boy nodded shakily. “I will tell her,” he said. “And if she wishes it, I will make it for her.”

Ichabod jerked his head gently and the boy scampered. Abbie looked up at Ichabod. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Contrary to what everyone says,” he sighed. “I prefer to do no harm to others.” His eyes fell to Hawley as he wriggled in objection. “Oh hush, you deserved it.”

Abbie grinned and looked down at the rabbit in her arms. “Yeah, Hawley, you deserved it.” If anything was deserving of being turned into a rabbit, it was grabbing a woman’s bosom. But that was just Abbie's opinion, considering it was her bosom. “It's just half a block once we turn that corner on the right.”

“I shall be at your side every step of the way,” Ichabod vowed.

Warmth bubbled up in Abbie's chest that had nothing to do with the rabbit she was holding. “So… is there anything anyone says about you that _is_ true? Because, from what I've seen so far, you're not as scary as everyone makes you out to be.”

Ichabod chuckled gently. “Oh I can be scary just ask Hawley when he's a man again.”

“You can't be that scary if he keeps coming around you,” Abbie pointed out. “You know what I think?” When he cocked a brow she said, “I think you're just grumpy because you're lonely. And then everyone else interprets it as you being bad news.”

Ichabod fidgeted slightly. “There's no need make such a perfectly justified assault upon my person in such a manner.” 

Abbie laughed as they rounded the corner. Again she noticed a shift in his facial expressions--jumping from passive delight to a scowling confusion. “What? Did I say something remiss?”

He was silent for a brief moment. “May I inquire something, and please forgive me if you take offense?”

She rolled the request over in her mind for a moment. Was most of gentleman that came into the tavern such a question she knew would only resort in her being offended. But with the man at her side she had no idea. “You may ask.”

They both came to hesitant pause. Abbie turned to look up at him as he gazed down at her. “What manner of enchantment have you placed upon me?” He closed his eyes and winced as if realizing something. “You do not have to answer. The fact I was capable of asking proves that there is no such enchantment.”

Her heart began to beat out of control. He thought she was enchanting him? Why would he think such a thing? “You thought I had an enchantment on you? Why would you think that?” Abbie asked. 

“There was a time… long ago… that I was under such an enchantment,” Ichabod admitted quietly. “For the better part of six years a witch had me believing I was in love with her. She was capable of making me do anything she wished simply by calling me ‘my love’.”

Abbie reached out and gently brushed her hand down his arm. “I'm sorry that happened to you it must have been terrible.” He nodded gently. She waited for him to elaborate, when he did not she reasoned it was something he did not wish to burden her with. 

Squeezing his hand gently, Abbie glanced toward the row of buildings next to them. “My home is just there,” she said nodding to a door not too far down.

Ichabod took her hand and guided her to the steps that led to her door. He only released yet hand after placing a polite kiss upon it. “Good night, Abigail,” he murmured as she handed Hawley over to him.

Abbie bit her bottom lip. “Do… do you want to come in for tea or… coffee?”

She watched Ichabod swallow hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a small squeak. After a second more, Hawley began to kick his rear legs and wriggle restlessly. Although, Abbie warranted it was because Ichabod was squeezing his tiny bunny neck.

“Um… you're choking Hawley,” Abbie stated.

“I know,” Ichabod replied. “If you could hear what he's saying you would too.” He swore when Hawley bit his hand, but relinquished his grip. “I… I should really…” He glared down at the rabbit. “Shut up.”

Hawley chattered and Abbie swore the rabbit was leering at her. She felt her face warm and looked away. Abbie never would have guessed that Ichabod would be able to communicate with Hawley in an animal form, but she supposed weirder things had happened in Sleepy Hollow. “Goodnight Ichabod Crane,” she chuckled. “Try not to be a stranger in town.”

“I shall--ouch, Hawley, stop it--I shall try,” Ichabod stated. “Farewell, madam.”

“Farewell, sir,” Abbie whispered before turning to unlock her door and slipped into the house. She leaned against the door and sighed, her hand over her heart. 

_“God, you're such an idiot,” she heard Hawley’s voice groused. “She invited you in for coffee or tea. While she was the only one home!”_

_“Not everyone is a cad like you Nicholas,” Ichabod snapped._

Abbie peered out of the window in time to see Ichabod and Hawley--bare assed but human once again--disappear into the distance. All at once Abbie realized two things:

One, Ichabod had thought she had cast a _love spell_ on him. Did that mean he thought he was in love with her? The very thought of him feeling that way made her giddy.

Two, she still had his coat draped around her shoulders. She smiled as she breathed him in once again. At least she knew she'd see him soon, if for nothing else, to get his coat back.

Maybe when they next met, Hawley would not be able to cause any disruptions in Ichabod staying for coffee. And hopefully she could get him to give her questions an actual answer.


	4. The Rescue

Well wasn't this just delightful, Ichabod thought ruefully. He rubbed his temples with frustration then sighed loudly. It was the first major snow storm of the season and he was stuck in his cabin with Nicholas, bloody, Hawley.

Stuck for goodness knows how long. Stuck with no way to evade Nick's repugnant lines of questioning concerning the lovely tavern maiden Abigail. He had thought he had sent for Nick with plenty of time to spare before the snow came in. 

Apparently he had thought wrong.

“I'm just saying,” Nick continued. 

“Could you please _not_ say,” Ichabod grumbled.

“It was clearly an invitation for you to be going into more than just her house,” Nick said anyway. “It was one instance which I would not have minded in the least if you have thrown me into the trash bin and followed her inside the house. In fact, I would have understood.” He made an appreciative sound. “I would have eaten her alive.”

“Nick!” Ichabod exclaimed. “Could you not speak of her in that manner?”

“And I mean that literally,” Nick commented. “My face would have been right between her-- wah!”

Ichabod sighed and eyed the vibrantly coloured bird that had taken Nick's place at the table. The creature ruffled his feathers in aggravation. “I can still talk jackass,” Nick snarled. 

He sat back in in his chair and folded his hands over his chest. Nick cocked his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Selene, treats,” Ichabod called softly, a wicked smile on his lips. Almost instantly he heard the gentle tingle of the bell on her collar. Nick looked around frantically.

_Ooch! Play time then, sir?_ a sweet scottish voice chimed in Ichabod’s head. _I do enjoy playtime with Nickie._.

The bell fell silent, Nick flapped his wings. “Where is she?”

Ichabod spotted a short striped tail flicking underneath the chair Hawley was perched on. The surprisingly nimble fat cat slithered from beneath the chair then set her sights on the parrot. She crouched low then leapt high into the air.

“ _Fuck_!” Nick squeaked, trying to take flight but failing, so he tumbled onto the table instead, flapping his wings uselessly. “How do these things work?”

“Please mind your language Mr. Hawley,” Ichabod drawled. The fat calico cat leapt onto the table and made chase after the parrot as it finally found his wings and flew around the small cabin, trying to evade her. She slid across the surface then fell off the side of the table, taking a chair with her. If anything, this gave Selene the exercise she complained about needing. It also held the added bonus that Nick wouldn't be able to inquire or comment about Abigail.

His scrubbed his fingers through his hair and looked over the star chart in front of him. One of the witches from a local coven had just recently given birth and had asked him to make the child's star chart so that she would know their destiny. It was a challenging enough task alone, but add in Nick's insipid blathering, it became downright impossible. 

After a moment Ichabod's eyes began to droop then fluttered shut. He involuntarily shivered when a strong gust of wind blew against the windows rattling them loudly. Had it not been for the protective wards he had around the house, odds were the house will be just as drafty as the outside.

He had nearly drifted off to sleep when he heard a panicked voice in the back of his mind shriek, “ _Help me_!” Flashes of imagery scattered across his mind--the darkening sky, the blinding snow, the chill of the wind, the sensation of falling, then cold.

Ichabod bolted to his feet, looking around in a panic. He could hear the soft voice quietly crying. “Quiet you,” he barked.

Nick perched himself upon the chandelier made of deer horns hanging from the ceiling. Selene sat upon the table beneath it, staring up at him licking her lips. “What's wrong?” Nick asked.

Ichabod held up a silencing finger and looked around as he heard the soft whispers pleading for help. “Do you hear that,” he asked.

“Hear what?” 

Despite their being whispers, the pleas were loud enough that surely Nick could hear them… _Unless_...

While to an average individual it would come as a desire and an impulse to search for danger, magical beings such as himself would hear the call of a strong protection charm. And he knew of only one protection charm in the region that was strong enough to call out as this one had.

Ichabod dashed to his coat rack and grab his spare winter coat, as his other seemed to have gone missing. He threw the coat on and hurried out of the door. Then he prayed he could find Abbie in time.

  
#  


Abbie watched as her little pony stopped moving, succumbing to his injuries or to the cold, she wasn't sure which. She had promised Jenny should be home before the storm began, but that had not been in her cards. Not when her pony’s hoof had caught a slick patch of ice and sent them both tumbling down a sharp incline.

Joe would no doubt be upset that he had lost one of his mounts. Hopefully Jenny would be able to smooth things over. 

Abbie shivered violently and tried again to move, but her body protested. After many false starts, she was finally able to sit up. She winced as she tried to move her foot and a sharp pain shot up her leg. When she finally looked down she noticed it was twisted in an odd angle.

Her fingers instinctively went to the charm at her neck as she fought back tears. Be damned if she would take such a tumble with merely an injured ankle to show for it, only to succumb to the elements! Abbie attempted to scoot forward, moving upward in the valley she had fallen down. But again her body protested and she fell into the snow with a soft whimper.

She curled herself as tightly as possible, her fingers closed around the charm. “Help me,” she softly cried. 

Doubt flittered into her mind.

_How could she possibly expect help?_ She was injured after falling off the main road, in the middle of a snowstorm, with dusk rapidly approaching. Who would be able to hear her if she called for help?

Would they not find her until come spring? Would Jenny have to spend months hoping and praying that she would return, only to be let down once the ice and snow had all melted? Would the people Sleepy Hollow suspect that Ichabod had done something to her?

If it wasn't so cold that her tears froze before they were shed, Abbie would have cried. She pushed herself back up into a sitting position and tried once again to pull herself up the valley side. Her muscles screamed in pain and she only made it perhaps two feet before collapsing again.

“I'm sorry,Jenny,” she whispered into the wind. Snowdrift downward piling atop her. Her shivering steadily became and more and more intense. She knew when the shaking ceased that she did not have much longer. She envisioned Ichabod’s face, which made her smile for a moment before it made her want to weep once again. “I’m sorry Ichabod.”

Abbie closed her eyes hell-bent on at least greeting Death with open arms. She refused to cry, she refused to plead. Her eyes fluttered open when she heard of gentle crunching sound as if feet were sinking into snow.

A gray silhouette presented itself in the distance. As it came closer, she realized it was a large gray wolf with bright blue eyes. The creature sniffed at the ground, before finally spotting her. She had heard tales of wolves in these parts and in fairy tales. Despite her current state, Abbie could not help but admire the beauty of the wolf, even if its intent was to make her its meal once she died.

It came so close she could feel the warmth of its breath on her face. She puffed out a weak laugh. “I swear to God you had better not be Hawley.”

Her vision blurred but she could see that the wolf had started to take on the shape of a person. Moments later she was aware that she was being lifted from the ground. A familiar woodsy scent filled her senses as she huddled closer to her rescuer and they tucked her into their coat as best they could.

“Ichabod,” she croaked weakly. “You came for me.”

It was then that she slipped into the darkness of unconsciousness.

  
#  


Ichabod frantically stoked the fire in the hearth. Hawley flew over to perch on the mantel. “So, when are you getting to taking off her cold wet clothes,” the parrot asked. Ichabod glared up at him. This was hardly the time to be making lewd remarks. “I’m asking this as a legitimate concern. I fell through the ice when I was a kid. The first thing they did was strip me naked and wrap me in blankets. Something about it helps warm up faster…”

 _He hadn’t considered that_. He snapped his head around. “Selene, I hate to ask this of you but…” Ichabod called.

“What’s that old fa--” Hawley started but then his beak fell open when Selene leapt off the kitchen table and turned into a small, round, matronly woman with grey streaked red and black hair. She dusted off her worn grey dress and apron as she waddled over.

“Aye, sir,” the woman cooed, her voice thickly Scottish. “I’ll need one of your spare shirts, lad, and then you and Hawley need to wait in the bedroom ‘til I give the okay.”

Hawley flapped his wings. “Why didn’t you ever say she was a woman?!”

Ichabod clamoured to his feet, grabbed Hawley up by his claws. “What do you think I meant when I said a familiar is a witch’s soul in an animal’s body?”

“ _Do you have any idea what I’ve done in front of that cat when I had to sleep on the sofa_?” Hawley squeaked.

Ichabod tossed Hawley onto the bed and stalked over to his chest of drawers to remove one of his shirts. “I told you not to do anything that you wouldn’t do in polite company,” Ichabod grumbled. He stepped out into the main room, averting his eyes as Selene wrestled Abbie out of her overcoat--which was the very coat he had been missing. He handed the shirt over to Selene then ducked back into his room. 

“How could you never mention that your cat was actually a woman?” Hawley squawked.

Ichabod sucked in a breath. “Evidently you were not paying attention. I clearly stated months ago and not even five minutes past that a familiar is a witch in an animal’s body,” he groused. “Think of familiarity as sort of being the witch’s equivalent of retirement. When they grow weary of the day to day hum drum of spellcraft and rituals,” Ichabod explained. “They spend their twilight years as a sort of assistant to a fellow witch.” 

To be honest, Selene essentially laid around sleeping all day, enjoying her life as a cat. She would occasionally chase a wayward mouse or shrew that found their way into the house, knock a spell ingredient off a shelf when she felt he needed it. For the most part, Ichabod never called upon her to take on her human form again.

 

But this was of urgency. He wouldn’t dare impugn upon Abigail’s virtue when it was so easy to ask another lady to change her clothing. But, even if he hadn’t specifically needed another lady for the clothing, Selene was a hundred times more skilled at the healer's touch than he. “ _We’re good lads_ ,” Selene called.

Ichabod perched Hawley on his shoulder and returned to the main room. Selene was busily wrapping Abbie's feet with a thin blanket. “Make yourself useful, boy,” Selene tutted. “I need more blankets, and perhaps turn Hawley into something useful like a big pup or a cat. I think we can all work together to keep her nice and toasty until she wakes.”

“Why can’t I just be turned back into myself?” Nick asked.

Selene looked at him pointedly. “‘Cause no one likes you as a human. You’re a right tosser as a man.”

Nick was quiet a moment. “After all we’ve been through together,” he said with a hint of offense to his voice. “All the treats I’ve brought you, all the hours of cuddling…”

Ichabod couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Then he turned Hawley into a large, yellow, forest cat.

Selene’s big green eyes lit up. “Oh, aye, _now_ he’s a handsome lad indeed,” she cooed as Hawley swaggered around. She looked up at Ichabod with a keen grin. Even in her human form, she still mostly thought as a cat. “Let’s get this pretty, wee thing sorted so I can get back to my resting years.”

  
#  


Abbie could feel herself being lifted. She felt warm. So very warm. Like she was being surrounded by it and it was sinking into the depths of her bones. Occasionally she thought she heard voices. Sometimes Ichabod’s voice. Sometimes Hawley’s. Sometimes a strange feminine voice.

When her eyes fluttered open, she was gazing a rotund calico cat, happily warming it’s belly in front of a fire in a hearth. The creature even seemed to have a blissful smile on its lips, its front paws tucked against its chest.

Laying upon her feet, was a huge yellow cat, purring loudly. 

It was then Abbie realized there was a final source of warmth tucked up behind her. Her head was resting on one of their arms, their other had drawn her close by the waist, keeping her against their body. A smile slowly spread across her lips as she discovered it was Ichabod and a multitude of heavy blankets keeping her warm.

She shifted around until she was facing him, taking a moment to admire his face this close up. How was it that a man so powerful and feared could look so calm and peaceful in his sleep? Was that flecks of grey in his beard or was it simply the brethren of the golden streaks in his chestnut hair? He certainly didn’t look like the stern-faced wizard she was used to.

Abbie nuzzled her nose against the dip at the base of his throat. He made a soft sound and his arm tightened around her waist. She tried hard to remember what had brought her here, to this moment. She remembered feeling cold--so cold--and then… nothing.

_No_... she remembered seeing brightly glowing blue eyes.

Was this all a post-mortem delusion? Her idea of Heaven?

Abbie reached up to touch Ichabod’s face, the scratchy texture of his beard tickled her palm. He made another sound and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times as his eyes focused on her face. Then he smiled and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Hello,” he murmured.

“Am I dead or dreaming?” Abbie asked softly.

“I would warrant to say neither, as you seem very much alive and awake,” Ichabod murmured. 

Abbie glanced back when she heard a small _vrrrr_. The fat cat had opened its eyes and was stretching its short legs out. Abbie reached out and tickled its belly, it gave a raspy meow, arched its back to further display its belly to her fingers. “Its unusual for cats to like having their belly rubbed.”

“Selene isn't a normal cat in any sense,” Ichabod replied.

Selene rolled over and pushed onto her paws. She waddled to the cat at Abbie's feet and swatted it on the head until it jerked awake and hissed at her. Selene swatted it again then swaggered off toward an opened door, meowing grumpily.

The yellow cat looked at Abbie, blinked, huffed, then followed Selene. A few moments later, the door closed. That was by far the weirdest thing Abbie had ever witnessed.

“Selene decided we needed privacy apparently,” Ichabod commented with a light laugh.

“How very polite of her,” Abbie said, snuggling closer to Ichabod. “What happened to me?”

“I found you in the woods half frozen,” Ichabod replied. “So I brought you to my home.”

Abbie lay upon her back and gazed around at her surroundings. It wasn't the stone manor she'd imagined in her head. Instead it seemed to be just a small, cozy cabin. Which, in her opinion, fit him so much better. “Wait… who changed my clothes?” she asked, for the first time realizing that she was now clad in a shirt that was entirely too big for her.

“Selene took on her human form and got you changed. I promise I did nothing out of sorts,” Ichabod said.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Selene had a human form? She frowned as she recalled not only the glowing blue eyes from the snowstorm but that they had been on a wolf. “Do… do all witches have an animal form?” Ichabod nodded. “Is yours a wolf?”

“We can turn into anything we need to,” Ichabod replied. “A wolf was just the most logical choice for finding a lost woman in the snow.”

Abbie pulled back the blankets and looked down at her ankle then at Ichabod. He had politely averted his gaze. Her ankle had been carefully splinted and wrapped. “We just spent Lord knows how long sleeping intimately close, I don't mind if you see my ankles.”

“But it's improper,” Ichabod murmured, gazing down into her eyes. “I am neither your family nor your spouse.”

“Well you're certainly welcome to become both,” Abbie commented. “You need only ask.”

Ichabod's brows arched in surprise. “Is that all?” When Abbie nodded, he gathered her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Grace Abigail Mills. Would you be receptive to my courting you?”

“Hmm,” Abbie hummed. “Would I, a humble tavern maid, be receptive to the adorations of a great and powerful warlock?”

“I wouldn't say great and powerful… but Wizard… or witch would be fine,” he commented. “Warlock is considered an offensive term amongst our kind.”

“Sorry,” Abbie said meekly. “I didn't know. But either way, my answer is _yes_. I would be very receptive. You will only have to get approval from my sister and August Corbin. He's like a father to me so his approval means a lot.”

She watched hesitation flitter across Ichabod's face. Then he nodded with determination. “Whilst your sister would prove a challenge, I am confident I can gain the approval of Mister Corbin.”

Abbie laughed and rested her forehead against Ichabod's chest. “I think you're over confident in how easy that will prove to be. But the fact you're willing to try speaks volumes.” She sighed softly. “I need to get word to my sister that I am safe.”

Ichabod was quiet a long moment and Abbie revelled in the feeling of his fingers trailing down her spine. “Nicholas! I need you to take a message into town when the weather calms.”

Abbie heard a deep meow from the other room. She burst into laughter. “And you have got to stop turning Hawley into different kinds of animals. Let me deal with him in my own way if he gets out of sorts.” Ichabod’s bottom lip poked out in a pout. She cocked a brow.

“Even if he annoys me specifically?” Ichabod asked.

“If he does something to you specifically and purposefully, I have no control over how you respond,” Abbie replied. “But I do ask that you at least consider a different option first.”

Ichabod seemed to mull it over for a moment then nodded. “Done.”

For a moment, Abbie waited. “Aren’t you going to kiss me to seal the accord?”

She almost laughed when he smiled shyly. 

Honestly. 

This was the man Sleepy Hollow feared? Well, perhaps together they could change the minds of the town’s citizens. Although, she wasn’t even sure _why_ everyone feared him in the first place. It would be easy to say it was because what he constantly did to Hawley, except, she could remember him suddenly appearing in town a few years ago--it had been all anyone could talk about--covered in dirt and muck ranting like a mad man, demanding to speak to General Washington.

Almost immediately the elders of town had started whispering about him, evading him, warning others to steer clear of the fierce warlock that had risen from the dead after a one hundred year slumber. 

“Well?” Abbie asked, fluttering her lashes.

Ichabod brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. He leaned in an kissed her softly. When he pulled back, he gently nuzzled his nose against hers. “The accord is sealed,” he murmured, then kissed her again.


End file.
